But even with all that evidence, convictions don’t happen on their own. Twelve people, selected by lot from the public, must come to a unanimous decision. That jury—who it comprised, how those people saw the world—was of enormous consequence. This wasn’t just any jury, and the difference that made should invite a major reckoning with how juries—the deciding bodies of the country’s judicial system—are selected in America.
All the jurors interviewed during voir dire were familiar with the case, and some had seen the video of George Floyd’s death. To varying degrees, they all understood the weight of the case and the intense media scrutiny it would undoubtedly receive, yet many were eager to serve. When interviewed by the defense counsel, Juror 27, who identifies as Black and an immigrant and who ultimately ended up on the jury, said that he had spoken with his wife about the killing shortly after it happened. “We talked about how it could have been me,” he said. Juror 91 put it simply when she said, “I’m Black and my life matters.” That these people held these views and still served on the jury shows a path toward greater democratic representation in America’s courtrooms.
There were many reasons to think things would not go this way—that Chauvin would be tried by a mostly white or all-white jury, and that people with systemic critiques of how criminal justice works in America would be struck from the jury pool. For one, Hennepin County, where the killing took place and where the trial was held, is nearly three-quarters white. For another, studies have found that Black jurors are less likely to be called for jury duty and less likely to be selected to serve. And finally, there was the complication of having the trial during the coronavirus pandemic, which has disproportionately affected Black and brown communities. According to the former Minneapolis public defender Mary Moriarty, during the pandemic, juries have been even whiter, on average, than before the pandemic.
Yet ultimately the jury seated in the Chauvin case included four Black people, two people who identify as mixed race, and six white people. (The jury comprised 14 people, including two alternates who were both white.) Much of the credit goes to Judge Cahill, who conducted the jury-selection process. Cahill set a tone of honesty and inclusivity during jury selection, emphasizing that he would consider the totality of a juror’s answers and not focus on individual statements when determining whether a juror was qualified to serve. He expected jurors to have strong feelings about Floyd’s death, but what was most important to him was a juror’s willingness to take on the responsibilities of legal judgment, including a commitment to the conventions of a fair trial.
Evidence of his approach was apparent from the start. The selection process began in December when an in-depth questionnaire was mailed to more than 300 prospective jurors. It contained detailed questions about Black Lives Matter, Blue Lives Matter, and impressions of the police. Given how Floyd’s killing galvanized the Black Lives Matter movement, both sides in the trial had an interest in learning how jurors understood the protests and the concurrent civil unrest, including instances of looting and the destruction of property.
But stating views sympathetic to Black Lives Matter did not result in jurors getting removed from the jury pool. During voir dire, a majority of the 12 seated jurors said they “somewhat agreed” or “strongly agreed” with the statement on the questionnaire that “Blacks and whites don’t receive equal justice in this country,” implying that they believe that racial discrimination in the legal system goes beyond isolated incidents and a few bad actors. The same majority also had favorable opinions of Black Lives Matter and disagreed with a statement that the media exaggerate claims of racial discrimination.
It’s difficult to overstate how significant a departure from the norm this is. In many similar cases, a potential juror’s mere intimation of a belief in systemic injustice makes judges and attorneys nervous—especially when the juror is a person of color. (...)
But in the Chauvin trial, the attorneys and the judge did not treat critiques of racial bias in the legal system as something that would inherently bias a juror. This was clear once voir dire began. In one instance, a potential juror—a Black man—spoke about the sadness and outrage he felt at seeing the cellphone video that had circulated around the world: “It’s another Black man being murdered at police hands,” he said. Judge Cahill said that he believed this was an “honest opinion,” “widely held,” and not necessarily an obstacle to being an impartial juror. This may seem like a small thing, but to say that jurors can hold systemic critiques and still be fair inverts the old paradigm, which saw an absence of such critiques as a harbinger of neutrality—which of course is its own kind of bias. (...)
In voir dire, potential jurors can be rejected either by the judge—which is called dismissal for cause—or by the attorneys via peremptory strike. As is clear, Judge Cahill did not dismiss jurors who held systemic critiques of law enforcement. But what’s maybe even more surprising is that neither did the attorneys. The only limitation on the use of strikes is that a juror cannot be dismissed on the basis of race alone. In the Chauvin case, the defense was entitled to 18 peremptory strikes and the prosecution 10, but both sides had strikes remaining when all jurors, including the alternates, had been selected.
by Sonali Chakravarti, The Atlantic | Read more:
Image: Getty/The Atlantic
